As The Last Note Sounds
by SanguisAnima
Summary: [AU/NON CANON] Sona Buvelle, the Maven of the Strings, has decided to embrace the path of the dark musics, and takes one last walk down the last battlefield she entered... With one final song to play. Pentakill!Sona; implied pairings.


A League of Legends oneshot

League of Legends and its champions are owned by Riot Games.

**AU/NON CANON ALERT! AU/NON CANON ALERT! AU/NON CANON ALERT! AU/NON CANON ALERT! **

The following is an AU. It is in no way based on canon champion lore.

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><p>The mists covered the land, the fog so thick that she could barely see the hand that was scant inches away from her face.<p>

Slowly, she went on. Little by little, inch by slow inch, the fog lifted itself and let her eyes roam over the vast wasteland, the remnant of a recent struggle.

Here and there she could see the signs of heated struggle, where beliefs were fought for and lives were lost as they paid the price of their own folly.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a dull pang of pain made itself known as she recognized some of the debris that littered the deathly quiet field.

The staff carried by the Starchild, broken into several pieces.

The chains that once adorned the Minotaur's brawny arms.

The business end of the Piltover Sheriff's rifle, now shattered and the end scope scattered into a million tiny fragments.

Nearby, the Enforcer's gigantic hextech gauntlets lay mangled, in what appeared to be an attempt to intercept something.

The famous lance of the Demacian Exemplar, now broken and half-buried in the dirt.

The Hand of Noxus' signature axe, now without its owner, both blade and handle covered in blood.

The Might of Demacia's battle-battered blade, resting on top of the axe, as if it had fallen from its owner's hand in that very spot.

Scattered throughout the field, one could see the Sinister Blade's signature knives, half-buried where they last fell from her lethal yet graceful dance.

A short way off, the crystal blue bow of the Frost Archer lay, the pristine surface marred only where the dirt smudged it.

She thought she recognized the Tidecaller's trident, as well as the Demacian Seneschal's spear that was now snapped in three.

There was also an undetonated hexplosive mine, as well as three flintlock pistols.

The Gem Knight's hammer was also shattered, the gems now littering the muddy ground, while the Loose Cannon's rocket launcher now looked like a gutted fish as it spewed smoke.

In the distance, it was easy to identify the Daring Bombardier's copter that had smashed into the sheer mountainside, with the Harbringer of Doom's scythe buried right beside the wreckage.

More and more, she recognized them, until her eyes landed on two bodies that nearly made her heart cry out.

Nearly.

On one side was the Nine-Tailed Fox, Ahri. She was garbed in a pink outfit that would have surely made her stand out, and attract attention especially with the male population. Her tails draped over her limply, the fur soaked with the water of the shallow river and the blood that pooled around them.

On the other was Ezreal, the Prodigal Explorer. His gauntlet (which was oddly shaped like a gun or a cannon) was smashed, showing his left hand to the whole world to see. His seemingly out-of-this-world garb was torn in multiple places, and his eyes were left open.

And they were staring directly, blankly, into Sona's own red eyes.

For several long minutes she stood there, unmoving, her sleek black etwahl - magically modified by the dark musics from its former comforting bronze, to its current sinister black form with the crow-ish head in front - merely floating, waiting for her command.

"Sona."

The Maven of the Strings turned slightly to see Yorick, the Gravedigger, approach her from the side. "They're as dead as can be. There isn't anything else left for them but to be ferried into the Shadow Isles."

"I normally don't care one tiny bit, but as an exception for you, I can sing their souls into the afterlife. You're playing, though. I don't like Mordekaiser's shredding." Karthus approached from Sona's other side.

The red-haired woman softly sighed, her hands gracefully gliding across the etwahl, playing a short set of notes that expressed she didn't care either way, but she appreciated their concern.

"I know you used to be like them," the Paladin of Pain said as he gently set his hand on the top of Sona's head. "I also know that both of them had a place in your old self. The Explorer and the Fox both unwittingly helped you when they both rejected you. As tribute to them, I shall not twist their souls, but rather send them directly into the afterlife."

Sona shrugged out from under Mordekaiser's grasp, and her etwahl floated to the optimal playing distance from her fingers. She took a slow breath and started playing softly, the notes increasing in intensity and volume, until it reached a point where any mortal who heard it was forced to move with it.

It was her best known melody: Crescendo.

As if pulled by an unseen string, Ahri's and Ezreal's bodies started to float up, and jerkily move their now-dead limbs. Olaf, who had joined them late, pulled out his axes and made to slash the heads off of the dead bodies, but Mordekaiser stopped him.

"Let her have this last rite of farewell. I would like to savor her last dregs of pain."

With her back to the other champions, Sona closed her eyes, an expression of acceptance settling on her face.

And with one quick movement of her wrist, the Maven of the Strings severed her ties with two of the people she used to harbor feelings for.

Immediately afterwards, she turned back to Mordekaiser and played a dark melody on her etwahl, the meaning behind the notes clear.

"Let us go. Pentakill."

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><p>Sanguis' Scribbles<p>

So, yup... This was borne from listening to (you guessed it right,) "Orb of Winter" from Pentakill. I happen to have a Pentakill Sona skin, and play as Sona a lot now (although I used to main Twitch). BTW, I'm in League PH, so don't bother asking (unless you actually play LOL PH).


End file.
